


memories forever kept

by wereheretostay



Category: Interstellar (2014)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:17:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wereheretostay/pseuds/wereheretostay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and short stories inspired by the events and happenings of Interstellar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. faded away

It was two o'clock, the night dark and loud with the heavy rain the clouds decided to sacrifice over the small town. Murph couldn't sleep, her mind restless with words and yells and touches and faint reminders of how much she had lost in only a mere sixteen years. Five nights in a row and she hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep. Her muscles were sore, her eyes tired and her mind slowing. She reminded herself of her father, who never slept at night but instead dreamt during the day when his work turned mindless and monotonous and his bones settled softly and reluctantly into the familiar routine.

She couldn't bear it any longer. Murph went into her father's room, the door creaking under her shaking palm. No one had been in there for a couple of years and it was right as Cooper had left it, sheets pulled up and tucked in and clock facing down the way he had always liked it. Don had stopped regularly cleaning and now a good inch of dirty dust clung to everything it could, like thick sweat to hot skin. It was even stuck to the outside of the window, but what was the point of a clean window if no one was ever going to look out again? 

Murph hadn't even been bothered by it; instead she went directly to his closet and pulled down a trunk that Coop had once told her contained _memories of my days as a pilot, Murph. Let's leave it be._ Murph had always been one for privacy, and respected other's like she wanted them to respect hers, but who knew when her father was getting back? 

Inside the trunk were a few t-shirts and an old pair of sweats, some textbooks and old, wrinkled notebooks. Papers, envelopes, foreign writing and symbols and long lines of equations on curled, coffee-stained paper. There were a couple of dusty, high-tech gadgets Murph would have to figure out later. Or just leave them until her father came back and showed her how they worked, her thin fingers would surely never tire of discovering something new.

Murph had grabbed the first shirt she had seen, a thick navy one with the official NASA "N" on the right chest. It still smelled like her father had, clean sweat and soap under the smell that came with long-forgotten things. 

The shirt was added to the collection of clothes that she had stolen from him over the years - now some four shirts and his worn jacket, a pair of boots that were never going to fit her without five pairs of socks (that were also his, fabric a long time frayed to reveal toes that were too small to fit into the holes) and still some extra space in the dead of winter but reminded her of her childhood and playing in the snow that would forever be a welcome sight over the endless dust and corn.

Maybe it was silly to hold onto her father this tightly - or, rather, the memory of him and his laugh, his bright smile and the way his hand drifted over her hair and skin. But Murph hadn't even a recent picture of him, only the one she found in a fat folder in the trunk, his face tight and free of worry, his smile coming loosely like it always had. His possessions were all he had - possessions that now belonged to Murph. She held onto them as tightly and closely as he had held onto her. 

Murph had curled up on the chair in his room, not wanting to disturb the bedding because Cooper was the last one to make the bed; some of him was till left in the way the sheets were tucked tightly under the mattress and the way the pillow cases were above the quilt instead of under. 

The chair was a dark leathery feeling fabric, soft and old and faded. That was what made it comfortable, what helped the chair hold Cooper's shape so easily, a shape that would eventually be worn out and replaced with that of his 16 year old daughter. It smelled like peppermint, clean sweat and old paper and the faint, bittersweet loveliness of small-town beer that was no doubt drank with a sour expression as it chased away the memories. 

Of course, as Murph had settled back into the chair and closed her eyes, she knew that one day the sheets would have to be washed, and the quilt sent off with one of Tom's kids, because Murph told herself over and over she wasn't going to have any. The chair would probably be moved, the clock face turned to look out over the hardwood again, and the clothes and few trinkets that rested on the shelves would have to be cleared out and stuffed into chests and boxes and trunks that would only end up moving twenty feet up to live in the attic. 

But for now, Murph was content to drift to sleep in the chair, envisioning her father's arms around her and his cheek pressed to her temple as their breaths slowed to match pace with each other, like they had so many times before. 

_A/N - I've written so much stuff for these two and I think I'm becoming obsessed but what else I am supposed to do after seeing it for the third time (in an imax theater dear god). I s2g where are all the good tasting energy drinks? but anyway I hope you enjoyed because no doubt, more is to come! xx_


	2. stay

It was a Thursday morning, cloudy and grey and cold. This year's November was harsh and dark, the wind blowing against what was left of the corn, threatening to uproot it and blow them away. The sun rose early in the mornings, set early in the afternoons. 

The days were getting shorter and shorter, the sun already starting to descend in the sky by the time Coop would climb in his car to pick his kids up. Sometimes, if Cooper was there late, or Tom and Murph were let out later than normal, the three would go drive out to a hilltop and watch the sunset from the back of the truck. It was a welcome change from the summer, where the stars didn't come out until past ten o'clock and by then Cooper and Don were already halfway hazy and too tired to stay up, and what was the point anyways? 

Cooper liked the dark. He was used to it. Maybe it was from his days in space, the inky blackness surrounding him on every side, or maybe it was from the dark of his mind, an opaque shield from his memories. 

But winter also meant that more work was crammed into a smaller amount of time. The tractors and various machines Cooper and Don used to farm always needed fixing, and the house needed cleaning, the porch needed to be swept, drones to look out for. The ever-present cold was never disappointing with frost hardened grass and cloudy white skies, a faint canvas on which only the unseeded soil was marked.

The day was turning cold while Cooper and Don were stuck working on one of their oldest machines, not quite winter but pretty damn close. It had plain stopped in the middle of the field, and they had to move it out before nightfall. Coop had called the school to tell Tom that he and Murph needed to take the bus home, even though he knew how much Murph hated the bus, the teasing only getting worse on the ride home. 

"Think that if we reset those wires, it'll be up and running again?" Don stood up with a frown on his face. 

"Yeah. That's just what I was just thinking." Cooper hiked his hands up his hips, eyes squinted against the sun. The old, dusty yellow of the school bus could be seen riding down the road in between the saddened empty fields, still bright against the even older and dustier background. "There're the kids. Maybe Tom can help you box up that corn before Rusty's closes. I'm going inside to get a drink."

"Sure thing." Dom walked over to the other side of the tractor and bent down again. 

The school bus drove right up to their house, stopping with a jerk to let Murph and Tom out. They weren't the last kids on the bus; their's was the only school in the area and kids came from miles and miles away. 

Murph came running full speed out of the bus, her back hunched over and face to the dirt. Right after her came Tom, his laughter dying out as he watched his sister kick up dust behind her. He was sighing, thanking the bus driver and slinging his backpack to rest further up on his shoulder. 

"I don't know what's wrong with her. She wouldn't talk to me at all."

"Just let 'er be. Your dad's in there and you know how he is with Murph." Don looked at his grandson with a weak smile. "Now, come help me with this corn."

Murph had ran inside, not stopping until she saw her father, and even then she slammed into him. Her thin arms wrapped around his middle and she buried her face into the ribbed fabric of his shirt. 

Cooper almost choked on his water, the impact of his gangly his six-year-old setting him off his feet slightly, not by weight but by surprise. Placing his water down on the faded counter, he stroked her hair, tucking the red strands behind her ear and letting her tears wet his shirt. "Aw, Murph. Murph, baby..." 

He gently pulled her arms apart and held her wrists, sliding her backpack off of her shoulders before picking her up and setting her on his waist. The girl wouldn't come out of his shirt, instead curling her chin down to touch her chest and hooking three fingers inside the collar of Coop's jacket. He could hear her sniffling. He could see the shaking of her shoulders, the small structure of her body pressed tightly up against his but doing nothing to calm her down. 

Cooper walked over to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms, sitting down on the worn wood. The tired step creaked under his weight, echoing those of his bones as he sunk down with his little girl in his arms. Murph pressed her head even harder into Cooper's chest, and he wondered how she was able to breath. But she was still sniffing, wet, hot tears and a good bit of spit from her blubbering dripping down her face and through his shirt. 

With an unexpected tremble of his own shoulders Cooper tucked his chin into the space between her neck and collarbone. He rocked her gently back and forth, trying to comfort her with the movement she had always loved so well. He wasn't going to talk - not yet. He had learned that Murph did better figuring out her problems herself, and wouldn't talk unless she was ready to. Words weren't a rarity with her, but they weren't tossed around in the wind like flower petals in the spring. Most of her thoughts stayed nestled inside her head, never tasting her lips as they passed out of her mouth, but threatening to reach down her throat and choke her with their intensity. 

So instead Cooper sat there until Murph's breathing slowed, and he held her with tight fingers curled into fists even when the front door squeaked open and slammed shut, and heavy footsteps labored into the house and stopped at the couch. He wasn't going to move unless Murph did. He was going to be there for her, stay with her, like he had always done, like he would always do. 

But eventually the sky got dark, and Cooper whispered soothing words into her hair, thumbing over her soft, pale jawline, until Murph slowly raised her head. 

Cooper watched her blink the sadness and anger out of her eyes, studied her face and her breathing until he was sure she was going to be ok. And that was when he pulled her up with him as he rose up and off of the steps, slowly climbing up to Murph's bedroom. Coop sat her down on her bed and gently pulled her jacket off her silent frame, sitting on the bed himself and unlacing her boots to reveal feet wearing her brother's socks. 

With a pat on her shoulder, he rifled through his drawers and came back to her room. He lifted her own tear-soaked shirt over her head and guided her arms into one of his. She was almost limp in his hands, motionless and quiet. 

But Cooper wasn't going to push her, he wasn't going to make her talk about what happened if she wasn't willing. She needed her sleep. Crying was a very tiring thing, draining all your emotions out of you and only leaving ones that took too much effort to feel.

Cooper pulled her quilt up around her shoulders and tucked it in around her knees. With a kiss to her still-damp forehead, he got up to let her be for the night, but her voice, choked with the memory of tears, stopped him. 

"Stay."

It was whispered, a wet, wobbly sound that was sticky in the cold, dry air. A soft question mark peaked out at the end of the word, worry and need and helplessness. With a tired, weak sigh, Cooper smiled a smile with edges that turned down to give away to sadness. Murph's blue-green eyes glowed in the darkness as she looked up at her father. 

Nothing else mattered to Cooper, because in that moment, his heart broke for his daughter. He only wanted happiness for her. Not phantom worries and hardships that caused her to come home in broken sobs. 

"Of course, baby." A sob of his own split his voice in half, and he shook his head at himself. Only Murph. It didn't even matter to him that she was six years old, grown and developed mentally and emotionally further than any six-year-old should be, and hadn't asked him to sleep with him since the night after her mother died. He wasn't going to deny her his presence while she slept, because even if he was an old man, he missed being with his kids like they were babies that he had to protect again. Now they were both grown to understand the world around them and the five years in between them didn't stop Murph from being just as mature and loud-mouthed as her brother, independent and invincible. 

Cooper walked over to her bed once more on knees that threatened to give out with each footfall. He crawled onto her creaky bed, the bed frame unused to the extra weight. Her sheets were old but soft, her quilt laced with memories haunting every stitch Cooper ran his finger over. 

Murph rolled over to face him, lips drawn into each other as she bit down on them. Cooper could see his own sadness and heartbreak reflected in his daughter's irises, causing tears to gather in his own heavy eyes until he blinked them away because Murph was still watching him, and he didn't want to cry in front of her. He was a far more broken man than his kids knew him to be. 

"Daddy, why are you crying?" Murph's soft voice opened his eyes again, and he touched his ring finger to her nose with an attempt at a grin, a broken, crooked line trying to make believe it was a smile.

"I'm not crying, what're you talking about?" Cooper let out a sound that was half a sob and half a chuckle. Murph drew her eyebrows together and watched the tear that was running down her daddy's face. He wasn't supposed to be the one crying, and Coop knew that, so instead of looking at his daughter and waiting to hear the question on her lips he pulled her into his chest. With a shaky sigh that was drenched in still unshed tears, Cooper held his daughter close to him. 

Only when her breathing slowed and her heartbeat was an even thrumming against his fingertips did he let himself fall asleep. The nightmares that normally accompanied his sleep were welcomely absent, his sleep instead patterned with his daughter's face as he laid there with her in his arms. 

_A/N - I think one of my most favorite things about this movie is how it leaves so many things unanswered and left to imagination. Like how and when Tom died, what ever happened to him and his family, what happened to Murph and Getty and of course, what's going to happen to Cooper and Brand! and also, of course the Lazarus missions. I think a prequel would be a very good idea. I'd love to find out what happened and see earlier versions of Brand and Amelia and Mann. And Edmunds as well, because I want to see what kind of a man Amelia Brand fell in love with._

_And, before you go - I highly recommend reading[blackeyedblonde's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde) stuff. (The above work was inspired completely by her!) Not only her Interstellar works but everything from True Detective. Honestly, the way she writes and weaves such beautiful words in even more beautiful sentences and creates gorgeous scenes and settings and feelings that I wasn't prepared to feel - just amazing. I'm surprised her works haven't gotten more recognition. every time I read over the chapters I want to just curl up in a hole and cry because it's just that beautiful and now I'm just rambling, but all the more reason you need to go read the work that inspired this. it's titled [Reunion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1764545), and you should all go read it rn xx _


	3. tired eyes, lupine skin

Underneath the layer of dirt that blanketed the earth was the rare blade of grass, brown and twisted but still recognizable as a sign of the past. Now nothing grew anymore, only the endless rows of corn that covered the remaining habitable half of the continent. Murph held a grass stem between two fingers. She twirled it, watching the dust loosen its grip and join its brothers in the wind that was blowing Murph's hair out of her ponytail and into her eyes. 

The dust was cold and dry as it whispered forgotten words on Murph's hands. She felt as if it was sinking into her skin, clogging up her veins as it turned to mud and encased her heart until she couldn't breathe. 

She felt her jacket, her shirt, lift off of her body and shivered as the wind passed over her bare skin. It rolled over the pale knobs of her spine like calloused fingers and caused a chill to ripple through her muscles. It lingered over her skin, murmured words that felt like a knife slicing into her fragile bones. 

The headstone wasn't even a real one - there were no words, no inscriptions, nothing to mark the empty grave of her father, but there was a commitment that came with marking the grave as a real one that she wasn't ready to dedicate herself to.

Its home was a lonely spot under one of the only trees left on the property. It was Murph's tree, the trunk withered and knolled and the branches thin and hanging on for dear life. She didn't want to place it near her mother, for the only memories she could recall of her mother were ones of tears and lupine skin. Instead she chose to lay it down in the dirt that had supported the footsteps of her childhood, at the foot of the tree that in its rings treasured not only the aging of itself, but the aging of the children who had climbed it year after year before leaving home with an ever-present burden on their shoulders. 

It had been 15 long years since her father had left her with a promise. _I'm coming back._. Murph wanted to bury that promise with the rest of the memories of her father, she wanted to let go of everything she had left of him and let it seep into the ground and walk away. 

With dry eyes and a heavy heart she told herself she was going to, that she was going to abandon them to the same dust that she had abandoned the memories of her mother long ago. She would let go of everything, every last remaining piece.

But she couldn't bring herself to. She had to hold onto the promise, the promise that her father had left her with it. She had to hold onto the chance that she might say hello again, since she hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye. 

The memories she would keep forever, the promise would stay in her heart for an eternity, but she she crouched there in the cold air she realized she had to let her childhood go. She had come to terms with the fact that her father might not come back, no matter how hard she would keep on wishing to look up into his tired eyes. And she realized she wasn't moving on, simply setting down an old stone and turning over a new leaf. 

As she placed the stone gently at the base of the wood she felt as if the sky was ready to collapse on her. Her head felt like it was about to explode. Wiping her eyes, she cursed herself for crying, for letting her emotions take ahold of her heart and her mind. 

The wind howled like the eerie sound of a child's scream as she walked back to her truck. The house looked empty, the silence inside of the walls deafening, the driveway tired and reminiscent in her rearview mirror as she drove away. With a bottle of whiskey in one hand and her tears in the other, she made a vow in her mind that she felt her heart might not be able to keep. 

_A/N - this was actually pretty hard to write, as I'm trying to get out of my writer's block! I got tired of writing Silmarillion stuff and decided to go back to my baby and the ~~safety and comfort~~ heartbreak that comes with it /weeps_


End file.
